


Hearts of Eyes

by glockenspielium



Category: Mary Poppins (1964), Mary Poppins - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glockenspielium/pseuds/glockenspielium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knows that eyes cannot lie. A face- the lips, the ears, the nose, the cheeks; they can tell any story. But a person's soul peeks out through the whirling irises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearts of Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to When The Wind Changes

He doesn't deserve this.

Even though the miles between us are growing with every minute, even though I'm trying to clear my mind and focus on where I'm going, I can still see him.

His face is never really gone from my mind, always hiding behind closed lids. His goofy grin, eyes sparkling like clear springs, shining through the thick frame of soot. But this time, when I see him waving goodbye, the mask of happiness if painfully apparent. Sure his mouth is sitting in the lopsided grin that makes me want to smile with him. His eyes brow raised, cheeks slightly pink in the chilly air-

But I can see right through that guise.  
It's all in his eyes.

You see, eyes cannot lie. A face- the lips, the ears, the nose, the cheeks; they can tell any story. But a person's soul peeks out through the whirling irises. And anyone, even those who aren't practically perfect, could have seen what his eyes were betraying.

I can see the sadness that he is hiding.  
I can see just how badly I hurt him, how badly I always hurt him.  
And it tears at my heart, it truly does.

For sure, I can look the part  _of Practically Perfect._ I can maintain my smile, hold firm on the umbrella, look ahead and let myself be carried away by the tormentuous winds of change, each swell sending forth a new adventure, a new conquest. Sailing above the clouds, high and mighty indeed, indifferent to the world below me- perhaps that is how I am seen.  
Perhaps that is what I will become.

Perhaps that is what happens to those who can't stay, who can't just live and be and love.  
I fear that, with every goodbye, and every promise of return, I am closer to becoming this image, this creature, so loving but heartless. So loved, and yet eternally alone.

But if someone, anyone were to look at me right now, as I fly high over the rooftops of London, they would see that this image, this person of Mary Poppins; _is a lie_.

Practically perfect people never permit sentiment to muddle their thinking..

Well, I couldn't be more muddled! How can anyone be anything near to attaining perfection when they hide from sentiment and emotion. That's all I can think of to describe how I am feeling at the moment. What I said was just to quieten my umbrella, but now that I think of it, I wish it was true. If only it was true! If only it was possible that every time the wind changed and my time was up, every time I had to look into the eyes of those loving children- never too see them again, every time I had to uproot, follow the wind once more, every single time I had to say goodbye...

_Practically perfect people never permit sentiment to muddle their thinking.._

As I said it to my umbrella, we both knew who the directions of the words were aimed for.  
I can hear his words again, 'Don't stay away too long..'  
But he knows I will, he knows I have to.

And even then, even when I uproot and abandon him, after weeks or months when I return, he is there; smiling and cheery, greeting me as though I had only been gone a few days.  
I don't deserve as a good a friend as him!  
Friend? Yes, that's all there is, that's all there will ever be.  
When I was younger, less controlled, more free with magic and sentiment alike, I had hoped- dreamed that maybe one day, we would be able to-

But I can't even start that train of thought again. All that  _that_  path would lead to would be hurting him even more than I already have, and I could never be that selfish, even if the temptation to hold his warm hands and lead him in a dizzy waltz is sometimes succumbed to; it is only ever with the explicit connotations of friendship, or at least that is what I am aiming for. Truly- I have not had enough experience with relationships to be sure of what my intentions are; or even his...

No! This has already gone too far.  
A restless mind does wander indeed...  
Now it is time to move on; not forget but not dwell on the past.

I have a role, a mission. And I have every intention of completing it to the best of my abilities.

So when the wind changes again and blows me back to London, the only place I would ever consider calling home, when our paths cross again and he exclaims his beaming welcome; as I say, 'It's good too see you again'; I will mean it with every fibre in my being.

And when I leave-  
And when I have to go once again..

I never could say goodbye to him. Not without betraying what I was really thinking, how I wished the wind never had to change again, how I wish I could stay there, dancing on the roof with the sweeps, frolicking through forests of butterfly daisies and tiny animals; or even just sitting on that bench in the park, side by side, watching the stars up above like we used to do. If only that were possible.

And so I leave without a word, waiting until I am far overhead before I even dare to look back.

Because if I was any closer he's be able to see my face.

And maybe my head would be facing the future, my cheeks ever rosy with the promise of a new challenge, mouth set in a confidence little grin. Maybe all of these would be reassuring to him that I was actually glad to be leaving once more, glad to turn away from him and though myself into the hands of the wind-

But my eyes, oh my broken eyes; they would give me away..


End file.
